


Guardian of the Rose

by Emriel



Series: Twisted Tales [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ancient Era, Betrayal, Confusion, Emotional Manipulation, Fairy Tale Elements, Gardens & Gardening, Gaslighting, Gods, Insanity, Lies, M/M, Mind Fuck, Rose - Freeform, Unreliable Narrator, dream like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22570087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emriel/pseuds/Emriel
Summary: There was once a rose in a frosty forest. The forest was owned by a forgotten god. A young Harry Potter finds his way into it and an unlikely friendship unfolds where he courts the attentions of something bigger than himself.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Series: Twisted Tales [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1334239
Comments: 35
Kudos: 288
Collections: Harry Potter





	Guardian of the Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Yey. I'm trying to write again. I have been affected by writer's block. I wanted this to kinda be a nice fluffy story but something happened midway. Like oh no, my hand slipped. It's not that dark, mostly pg. I have no beta... but I'll polish it some more tomorrow or in the next few weeks. Enjoy reading.

“Whatever you do, don’t talk to strangers.”

Harry ran around the room with his toy Lion and away from his mom that was trying to get him to wear his dress robes properly.

“Harry James Potter, will you stop right this instant?”

As if by saying his full name out loud, Harry froze, and looked at his fuming mom.

“You will go to school today, and then, meet with Mrs. Weasley, then by nightfall, you will be back in this manor and eat dinner with us. Do you understand?”

"Yes mother!"

Harry Potter tried his best to stay still as his mother recited the same warnings and directions. He knew why he had to follow them. His father said it was always better safe than sorry. His mom was a worrywart but since he was their only child, it was kind of a given.

But if there was something to be said about the seven year old heir, it was that trouble always found him and he had neither the patience or will to follow the rules.

The same could be said about his pet owl, who could never seem to stay in the Potter grounds and was found hunting prey well beyond where the little boy could find her...

* * *

There was a rose, in a forest made of ice. The forest was once lush with greenery but for some time, most have forgotten what it was once like without it.

In the middle of the forest, there was a small clearing, and around it, a structure made of glass. The roof was supported by five pillars and underneath it was a small rose with only one flower.

It was perhaps the only spot of color in the white expanse. Alone but not for long.

The rose had a guardian who visited it every full moon, who kept it warm and watered it, tending to it with care and dutiful loyalty.

Many a time, this quiet guardian would sit beside it, or stroke its everlasting petals, the voice, just a whisper in the wind.

One day a snowy white owl flew by and perched upon an icy tree, wondering perhaps if the mouse that ran from it skittered away underneath the snow. Pretty soon, the owl ventured farther and farther until it lost sight of the mouse and found itself in that special clearing.

And it watched as a hooded man appeared, one with red eyes who spoke to the rose in a raspy voice, “Still you sleep, you wretched rose. When will you wake? Thorn of my soul.”

The owl flew away when the man glared at it.

“Who dares disturb my peace?”

And the owl hooted, avoiding the man’s glowering gaze. It escaped, as if sensing doom.

* * *

A few nights later, the owl’s owner wondered why it was so that all the owls in his town were dying one by one. They would lose a feather and another until they could not move at all. Once the feathers started dropping, they soon became feeble and weak, breathing their last within two to seven days.

Hedwig began losing her feathers too, and Harry Potter was at his wits end. His family had asked for the best healers but they said it was as if there was a curse upon the owls, one that they could not break for no amount of their potions and healing salves could ever cure them from their deadly sickness.

Even when the owners started isolating their owls, they kept dying, as if all of a sudden in unison, they have decided that it was their time to pass on. Harry had none of that, the seven year old knew that there was something more to this that the grown ups were ignoring. Something bad happened, and not one to let a mystery go unsolved, he reached out to his friends.

“My owl is dead, Harry. What’s done is done,” Ron said, while eating a sandwich.

“We can only pray that their souls are fine. You know, some have come back in the form of ghosts,” Hermione pointed to a ghastly apparition of the owl beside its crying owner.

Harry thought back on Hedwig, locked up in her cage within his room.

“Strange things happen and we simply do not have a way of knowing what caused it. I've searched the library, and the professors said that there is no known moment in time that this happened except for the black plague which most muggles succumbed to...” Hermione stood up and dusted off her dress. "It makes me very curious and sad that we cannot do anything for them."

"Are you sure you've looked at every book? There must be something..."

Hermione looked annoyed that Harry would suggest such a thing. Ron just waved it off. "They're cursed. We can always buy new ones after a few months. From another city."

"But I can't let Hedwig die," Harry looked at Hermione and Ron who looked at him with something akin to pity.

"Look, Harry, it's a miracle that Hedwig is still alive. Try to make the most of it." Hermione decided to pat Harry's head but Harry just looked even more upset, his lips trembling. She wondered if she said too much.

The summer sun was shining down at them. “My parents will visit soon, and since they are from the muggle world, they might have an idea of what is causing this to happen. Wizards are helpless with this kind of thing, and yet muggles have found ways to combat their diseases using modern medicine.”

Harry scrunched his nose at distaste. He never truly understood the muggle world. There was an instantaneous cure to most things in the wizarding world. They did not suffer the same problems the muggles did. They were immune to most things and that was when an idea sparked his head, “I think it’s because owls are like muggles. They’re not magical, that’s why… they’re weaker.”

Hermione waggled her fingers, “Then why only owls? Why not the rest of the animals?”

Ron sighed, “Just leave it. Mom said not to talk about it anymore… Bad luck she says.”

Harry frowned.

Hermione's muggle parents were scholars so maybe they knew of diseases that cause only certain animals to die and then they could stop it. But if Ron was right and it was a curse, who was horrid enough to do such a thing?

* * *

Dejected, he went back to the Potter manor.

The epidemic of deaths did not seem to stop. Their town had to figure out a new way to send messages, and they all required to floo call, and personally mail their letters. Someone had miraculously invented a way for the paper aeroplanes that their ministry uses to send their telegrams and news without the use of owls…

It solved one part of the problem, but it did not help the case of the children who grew depressed from the loss of their bonded familiar.

It was the first of its kind in the town of Hogwarts, a prosperous town that lived next to the black lake and the neighboring market Hogsmeade. It was a town that was blessed with peace. Many flocked to it, as if harkened by the idea of freedom. It was not just people, there were all manner of creatures like vampires, giants, and veelas that made it their home.

In the thousands of years of its existence, it never had an incident of famine, plague, and the many found it simply threatening.

Harry Potter sighed, “Hedwig, what are you trying to tell me girl?”

Hedwig was hooting nonstop for hours and after some time, against Harry’s better judgement, he undid the magical lock upon the bird’s cage. Soon, Hedwig unfurled his wings and started flapping it with what energy she had left.

Hedwig gave Harry one knowing look before leaping from the window. Harry scrambled after her.

“Wait! Wait come back. Don’t leave me, Hedwig!”

And Hedwig flew away, towards the Forbidden Forest of Frost.

Harry was a child, and adults have always told him “Such a brave boy.” “A brave boy who does not know how to follow rules.” “Such a spoiled brat.” “Blessed with nine lives I say…”

And true, seven summers past, he was still the _brave adventurous spoiled brat_ and yet, he could not help it. Something in his blood could not stop himself when danger called, if it meant it was to save somebody.

When once an ogre was about to clip his friend’s head, he swung a mighty axe two times his size, and saw blood spill on the floor, the first time.

When his best mate was locked in a burning house, he leapt in, and took him out, surviving with a mere burn on his shoulder. Nothing magic could not fix.

And it was perhaps it was because of his belief in magic, that any injury he suffered, he knew magic could fix, he was happy enough to take a beating. His relatives came by and told his parents, “You should really get him looked at. The sheer recklessness is unheard of. One day he will lose his life, and what are you to do then. You must sire another child, we simply cannot approve of him as being the heir to the Potter line.”

That hurt, but Harry told himself that he was happier going on for little adventures and heeded neither the warning nor the advice of his own family.

And if there was one thing Harry knew, it was that he was lucky.

With luck by his side and by the grace of all that is of an unruly child, he followed his owl into the forest. His lungs were burning from exertion that he did not know he would ever experience. He was the fastest of all the boys despite being the smallest and the skinniest.

Running was his expertise, and he wished he could have brought a broom. But with no wand on hand, which was to be gifted to him on his eleventh birthday, he used wandless magic to which most children were mildly proficient and cast a warming charm.

It was deathly cold after all, and he could not allow himself to freeze or else he would never bring back his owl. Maybe that was what Hedwig needed after all, maybe the summer sun was becoming too hot and she only needed a time away from it?

Soon it was nightfall and Harry had to use up his magic to conjure light that floated from the top of his hand.

A part of him wondered if his parents would start looking for him. Normally he would be in bed by this time. Who knew what beating he’ll have to endure once he made it back?

Hedwig kept flying, until Harry found himself in a clearing that perhaps no one has ever dared to trespass before or all would have began spinning tales of its beauty.

In that clearing sat a flower, a beautiful rose that glinted against the moonlight.

A dome of ice and glass, carefully sculpted with markings Harry could not decipher was around it. The sky was clear and he could see the moon shine it's light directly below it.

Harry cancelled the Lumos on his fingers, content to just marvel.

Until Hedwig began pecking at it. Harry moved to stop and her, as if spurned by fear and then he hearda glass like sound, as if it hit something that did not exist that protected the flower.

Relieved, he sighed.

“There is magic here… is there not? Is this what’s causing you pain, Hedwig? Shall I cut it down for you? I would do anything for you to live…”

A shadow was suddenly before him, and Harry instantly felt chilled to the bone. He looked behind him and saw a cloaked man, with red eyes.

“You step into this sacred land without an offering. Pray tell me, why shan’t I smite you down?” The raspy voice said down to him, and Harry fell down to his behind with an oof.

“I… I was only following Hedwig. I didn’t do anything bad. I-I’m innocent so you shouldn’t hurt me.” Harry found his voice even when he wavered from fear.

“Ah, the pesky owl. I was wondering which owl it was and decided to let all the owls die. I do not forgive and I do not forget.”

“So it’s you! You’re the one that caused all this. You must fix her! She did nothing wrong!” 

“She came into this forbidden place, interrupted me. And you dare raise your voice at me when it is your owl’s fault. You are testing my patience, mortal.”

Harry looked at Hedwig, “What has she done that deserves this? Why does she need to die?”

“This forest is sacred. It is my domain. Did you not feel it boy? Did your elders not warn you of Lord Voldemort? My Legend and my kingdom?”

Harry blinked, “What legend are you talking about? All we know of this land is that it’s called Forbidden Forest of Frost. They said not to go here but they did not tell us why.”

The red eyed man began to grow in size and menace, as the heavens darkened. “Are you telling me that your land has forgotten my name!? That they have forgotten the God whom they serve? It was I that continued to protect this ill begotten land from the famine, from the frost, from all that there you crettins bring upon yourself. You have forgotten it just as you have forgotten the rose.”

“The rose?” Harry tried to stand up but his legs trembled.

The red eyes started burning, as if fire had overtaken it, and it glinted as it growed. The man made a wide gesture as he pointed at The Rose.

“The Rose,” He started with a snarl, “was a symbol of peace between my lands and yours. Every summer, I was promised to be given another sacrifice who should cater to it, water it and care for it and yet in these past years, only I have tended to it… and I thought I should let it go for all the others have done their job in kind. I was willing to consider the payment done, and then your owl broke the peace that I have required, that not one of your creatures, ever roam the lands I own. Perhaps your lands do not need protection from my kind. Perhaps you have forgotten all the vows that have once been sworn.”

Harry’s lips trembled.

“Why…? All this for a mere rose? I could give you any rose. There’s so many roses… in my garden. I will give them all to you so please don’t kill my owl. Please?”

Voldemort glowered, “A mere rose you say?! This rose is my chosen companion. And your lot does not deserve an ounce of pity if their children are as ill mannered as you are. I will let you all suffer and let you despair when nature does not follow your bidding. Your lands will be wrecked with drought. Your people will hunger. And death will follow, with sickness and disease… That is what will happen when my blessings recede. That magic that you all sought, I will take it away, and leave you as normal as you once were. And those of dark hearts will darken other hearts, and the peace that you know will not exist in times of turmoil. I have seen it all happen. One day they will come to me, begging for peace… and begging for power. And they will give me another rose.”

Then Harry looked at his owl, hesitating, before standing up and declaring, “Then I will water your rose! I’ll go here every day and care for it. Just please don’t kill Hedwig… she’s my familiar… my friend, please.”

Lord Voldemort considered this, “You are telling me that _you_ , a child that has not even grown into manhood, would dutifully care for my rose every day in exchange for the life of your owl?”

Harry nodded, “Yes. You said we owe you that… you said you bless our land… then maybe this is the least I can do.”

Harry felt something hurt, in his heart, and soon he found that his forehead was bleeding.

Voldemort smiled, a nasty one, and clasped his hands together, drumming fingers. “Then, you, Harry Potter, will come here every day in secrecy for you are not allowed to tell others, even your parents, of what has occurred tonight... in return I will spare your Owl. But all the others that have died will remain dead. And I will revoke my blessing to the world, but I will not call out famine... If you can prove to me that you care enough for the life of _Hedwig_ then I will accept you as the steward of my rose.”

Harry bit his lower lip and nodded.

“So mote it be.”

There was a sickly green magic that entwined with gold, and it etched on the inside of his arm with a mark like that of a serpent and a skull before disappearing.

* * *

Harry happily came back to the town with a healthy Hedwig in toe. The owl flew around him in apparent happiness before settling on his shoulder when they left the cursed forest.

The town of Hogwarts was sleepy, and those that were up and about were those that frequented the bar, drinking until the morning came.

He warily avoided the wobbling men and women who drunkenly sang at night and sought the comfort of his home whose lights were out. He entered the manor, and put his finger on his mouth, trying his best to signal to the dogs that yes he was home and no they could not bark.

They obediently wagged their tails and licked his face. Swarming him and he had to pet and scratch at them before they let him be.

Then, little Harry climbed up the trellis, his only way into his room. The flowers that grew there had thorns which cut his knee in the process. He opened the window of the second floor, going in as quietly as he can and clambered into bed wondering if all that happened was just a dream.

* * *

“Harry, where have you been? The mind of you? And look at your knee, and your forehead. There’s blood!? What have you done?”

Lily, his mother was in tears at the state of him and cried in the arms of her husband saying, “Whatever shall we do with our boy, James? We’ve tried everything we can do in taming him but he refuses to do as told.”

James sighed and comforted his wife. He then looked pointedly at her round belly and calmly said, “Well he’s back now. He’s safe and we can call for the healers. Those are only scratches. What of the time he came back with a broken shoulder and a dislocated leg? This is nothing. Come on, I know you missed him. You shouldn’t care for what the others say… It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make you a bad mother.”

Harry covered his face with a comforter and tried not to feel guilty. He was more than annoyed that his mother had to be crazy lately, but apparently that was what happened to pregnant women. Hermione said it was something her muggle parents who have observed as well and yet there was no known cure, and muggle doctors have killed far more than necessary when they started shoving sticks and metal pipes inside the skulls of their ailing patients.

And Harry was nevertheless scared of it and shook his head at the memory of the tale. There was a reason why the muggle world and the magical world could never make peace.

Then there was the menacing form of his father, “Harry James Potter, you are not to leave your room for three days.”

Harry’s eyes widened, “No you can’t do that father. I… I only wanted to bring Hedwig back. She was trying to fly away… and I thought I would never find her again, but she’s okay now! See?”

James looked at the resplendent white owl and marveled, “By Godric, you’re right. She does look healthier… What did you do?”

And Harry tried to speak but no voice came out, he then felt an enormous headache and slunk down in the bed with a whimper.

**_I demand complete secrecy._ **

* * *

“You cursed us.”

“Harry is a dark wizard!”

They were once his playmates, and they were throwing rocks at him, and had he not learned how to deflect it with his magic he would have come home with bruises and wounds.

“I did not!” Little Harry ran at the snickering Nott and threw a rock back at him which hit him on the shin.

“I’ll tell my father about this, just you wait!”

Ron pulled him back, “Harry, stop.”

Harry merely growled at all the others who were whispering behind his back.

“Well, your owl is the only one that made it back alive. Everyone else’s owl is dead. What did you do, Harry?I promise I won’t tell the others,” Hermione leaned down at him as he sat on the balls of his feet and cried.

“But I didn’t do anything. I.”

**You cannot tell anyone.**

The vow of secrecy came to life and Harry clutched at his forehead in pain.

He must have passed out for when he came to Hermione was shouting his name and crying, saying sorry.

There was a healer looking over him, “Ah… it seems like you just upset him… Kids can be pretty cruel.” Then the woman stood and announced to the children huddled around his form, “Nothing to see there! Get back to your homes or I will tell your mothers and fathers about how you hurt poor Harry here.”

The children scrambled. And Harry just grit his teeth. It felt so unfair. He could not tell anyone the truth.

"I'll let your father know so he can protect you from those bullies. We can't keep watch but we might as well put something in place... Your father has always been a generous patron..."

Harry scrunched his eyebrows together. There was no need for the healer to make him sound as if he was some weakling. He immediately pushed her aside in annoyance thinking that just like the others, they treated him well because of his name and his father's wealth. Without thinking, he set off towards the forest.

"Harry! Please come back! Do not run away... They will have my head for this!"

Harry ignored the healer and stuck out his tongue for good measure.

* * *

He carried with him a small bottle of water, taken from the black lake at the lip of the forest. It would have been faster if he were to bring his broom and yet he could not risk being seen.

So instead he vowed to learn of ways to make sure he would remain invisible.

Little Harry wondered if he still had to stay true to his promise, but the repeated headaches was a reminder that the person who he swore an oath to was powerful enough to kill so many owls at once, perhaps if he angered him, he would turn his ire to the villagers next.

There was a glimmer of fear at that, but Harry knew that the scary stranger was someone he could reason with.

For some reason, he arrived at his destination much faster than the first time for he only needed around a thousand footsteps.

He entered the glass dome, and underneath it, wondered why he was doing so much for a rose.

It was then that the hooded stranger appeared, “So you have come. I thought that you would be like all the others, who have lied to me. Well then, have you brought the water?”

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“First you must learn to see if the rose truly does need water. Most often I believe it does. You must feel it with your fingers and see if the soil is moist.”

Hands peaked out of the cloak, deathly white. Harry noticed there were scales on them and when those hands touched him, they were colder than his. Ice cold even.

Harry touched the soil, and noticed it was dry.

“And then you water it.”

Harry took out the bottle and began pouring.

“Wrong. Don’t pour it on top, you will drown it. Be gentle.”

Harry pouted and calmly tried to do as instructed.

“There are times it might not need water, and all you need to do is dust it off. This is not a terrible task by itself is it not, boy?”

Harry shook his head, “So I don’t need to come here every day then?”

“You made a vow that you shall, and so you shall. It is better that you do, for there are times I will not be here to guide it, and preserve it. It is my magic that sustains it, and perhaps one day you might offer yours too.”

Harry tilted his head and looked at the red eyed stranger, “You even feed the rose magic?”

“I told you it is not a simple rose, it is my treasured companion. You must be an imbecile not to notice that it is only this area of the forest that is not covered with snow… I too am responsible for that.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled in momentary admiration before telling himself that this man was responsible for all the others who hurt him today.

The man looked into his eyes and was silent.

“Come back to your family before they worry.”

The stranger disappeared in the shadows.

* * *

And so, every day of the summer, little Harry managed with little difficulty to become the dutiful steward of the Rose. It was strange where it was summer the moment he left the forest and winter within it. Sometimes he grew dizzy at the change.

And yet, every day, still he went and the stranger was there, and they shared little conversation for the self proclaimed God said not much else, besides his apparent dislike for the non magical folk, and those who he accused of misusing his magic.

Harry wondered if they owe it to the stranger that they could use magic at all. Everything his parents have taught him would have been a lie, or the stranger was lying.

But if the stranger was lying, then he was a very powerful liar.

By the time summer ended, Hermione and Ron confronted Harry by their little play shack, as they burned the leaves and branches for a makeshift bonfire.

“You’ve been avoiding us, Harry,” Hermione said.

“If it’s because of what I said, then I’m sorry, I really am.”

Hermione inched closer and Ron sighed. “Mate, you have to talk. Hermione’s been crying. It’s not fair.”

“It’s alright. I’ve just been busy,” Harry prodded the leaves with his toe, since the fire died down.

He dug underneath and blew with some magic, and kindled the fire so it was back to its fiery glow.

“Busy? With what?” Ron then took out his cheese and started letting it melt before putting it on his mum’s sandwich.

“Gardening.”

“But you have house elves for that, Harry. You hardly come over to play anymore. Even Ginny said she misses you.”

Hermione sighed, “Well, maybe Harry’s just turned to plants like Neville. He talks to them, says it makes them feel better.”

And Harry perked up, “Do they really talk to you?”

Hermione put up her hands in the air and took the offered sandwich from Ron and then said, “He didn’t say that they talk back, only that they seem happier. Whatever that means. I’ve tried to read up on it and in the history of herbology, there’s… are you even listening?”

Harry grinned, “I am… that’s just really helpful Hermione, thanks.”

Hermione merely smiled and hugged him, “You don’t hate me don’t you.”

“Of course not,” Harry smiled and looked up at the stars inhaling the fresh scent of pine from the forest.

The fire crackled as the embers flew upwards.

“My mother told me a story about faes. They say muggles have their own version too… Fairy tales? Where sometimes strangers offer you food and how you must never eat it, because it’s poisoned.”

Hermione grinned, “I know those. There’s one where a princess is offered a pear, and she falls ill before she meets her prince.”

“That’s scary. What about spiders?”

Hermione giggled, “I’ve read a story where a family of spiders begin to spin a web so big and so strong, that anything that sticks on it would forever be stuck. And they would feast on it, whether it is human, wizard or cow… I’ve heard there are spiders in the forest too.”

Ron shivered. “I don’t ever want to go there. I hear bad things about the forest. Most people never come out of it alive.”

“Really? I’ve been inside.”

“Then you’re lucky. You should never go inside there, Harry. It’s cursed.”

Harry pursed his lips. He wondered if Voldemort was protecting him. The forest belonged to him after all. He was not sure how that made him feel... He was usually annoyed at the old man but a feeling of warmth grew in him then.

Harry stood up by then, “I have to go.”

* * *

Harry ran to the forest and for some reason he could not find the clearing. It took a long time. It was after all in the middle of the night and when he was about to give up, it appeared.

And Harry knelt down at the rose and tried talking to it, “You know, for a companion, you are always silent. I’ve been caring for you all this time and you haven’t even talked to me… but since you are _his_ companion then… I’ll try my best to take care of you.”

He thought of how much Hedwig meant to him and talked to her about it.

“Hedwig must have gotten lost. She likes hunting mice, and the mice must have entered the forest. I don’t know how she found you but it’s nice that she did. I was talking to Ron and Hermione today… and I’m hoping that by talking to you, you become a little bit happier? Another friend of ours thinks the same. His name is Neville. Maybe he’ll be a better gardener than I am. He loves plants.”

And it was then the hooded man appeared, and underneath the moonlight, he removed his cloak for the first time.

Underneath the hood was a pale handsome red eyed man. With long lashes and red cherry lips, high cheekbones, glinting white teeth, with sharp ends.

“What are you doing here, child?”

“Oh…”

Harry shook himself from staring. “You’re human after all.”

“I am not. I have told you in the past, I am a God. You have not answered my question, child.”

“I’m here… because I was talking to the Rose… do you even have a name for it?”

Harry tilted his head in askance, and Voldemort narrowed his eyes, “There is no need for me to answer that question. You know that there is power in names, and I shall not give you the chance to curse my companion.”

“Curse it? I will never do that.”

Harry pouted, “You really are mean. I’m not that evil.”

“There is no such thing as evil in the world, Harry. You truly have silly ideas, you and your kind. Very well then, if you mean to converse with my Rose, then I will grant you that privilege.”

Harry looked at Voldemort who spoke in some old language and the glass dome they sat under started glowing and the entire place grew warm.

“Well…” Harry coughed, self conscious now that he had an audience but began talking to the rose out loud.

“Hermione and Ron said that I haven’t been paying attention to them lately, that even Ron’s sister misses me. I used to visit their house all the time. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind caring for you but maybe tomorrow I will play with them a little bit more.”

"You see my rose, the child has magical friends, young vermin. I thought he is like all the others and yet he kept his promise..." Voldenort's shadow grew bigger and it crept beside the child. Red eyes glowing in fiery embers until the entire face flickered into one of darkness.

"My friends are not vermin!"

But when Harry looked to the side, Voldemort was gone.

* * *

The seven year old kept at his promise, until he turned eight, nine, and ten.

And as each year passed, a strange thing happened. The magical folk started complaining of fatigue, as if magic has gotten more difficult. Those things that can be easily conjured wandlessly now require a wand.

Harry was not immune to this, for when before he could easily conjure a warming charm, now he could not, and he had to hide his clothes by the forest, so when he entered he could go in easily.

The hardships did not stop there. The luck that their town had been blessed with had fallen into a low, for frequently they had to deal with thieves and outlaws. Crop was not as bountiful as it had been in the past.

His parents had to sell the manor and move into a smaller house to conserve their wealth, not that the Potters had to worry over it too much but they could not maintain the same vast gardens, and acres of property when others needed help.

Healers had their hands full when suddenly many children and elderly were getting sick by the droves.

On Harry’s eleventh birthday, suffering a cold, he still kept at his promise and went to the forest, sickly as he was.

And fell asleep there.

* * *

“You could have died.”

Voldemort said by his bedside, and Harry blearily looked at the older man whose hood was down... who was combing his hair with a frown. Voldemort was clearly the prettiest person in the entire world that Harry has ever seen.

He felt warmth gather at his cheeks for even staring and at this he looked away and missed the smirk on the man's face.

And Harry looked up at the sky and it was red. The clouds were black.

“Where am I?”

“In my abode. Why did you tend to the rose in such a state?”

“I made a vow.”

“I would have forgiven you if you did not come. You shouldn’t have had to risk your life.”

“But you do not care for mortal life, Lord Voldemort. I know now that you were telling the truth. We are losing magic.”

Harry bitterly said, and there was silence.

Lord Voldemort looked at the green eyed child, one that had served him and his rose for a few years and wondered if the boy would wilt just like the others without the support of his magic.

“I can spare you, but not all the others.”

“Why?”

“For they have forgotten me.”

Harry sighed.

“Can you not forgive them? They cannot survive without it for that’s all we’ve known… What do you need from us?”

“Nothing.”

“Please, tell me? Then I will try to do something about it?”

Voldemort glared at the child, “What I want is for that rose to come alive.”

“But is it not alive? I water it every day. I talk to it. I’ve noticed it started looking a lot perky lately?”

Voldemort looked long and hard at Harry and began, “He used to be a God, just like me. He looks a little like you. The greenest eyes. The Darkest of hair. A human god who chose to die instead of being my companion. He told me he would sleep for many years and one day come to meet me but he never did. And that I should help your people until the day he comes back… But look, after thousands of years, he is not back. He is a mere rose, held together only by my magic. Why do mortals toss away their life as if it does not matter to them, when they could take care of themselves better?”

Harry whimpered weakly at the sudden accusation.

“I don’t know. We only try to live the way we can… I cannot speak for others… or for your rose. He… Won’t you do it for him?”

And that was when Voldemort sadly knelt down and kissed him.

Harry’s eyes widened and put a hand on his lips when Voldemort moved back. Too flustered for a time until his vision swam.

“W-what did you…”

“Poison. It will keep your muscles numb. Until you are well, you will not leave that bed.”

“M-my… family will worry…”

“Don’t worry about them. It’s nothing magic cannot fix.”

* * *

When he came to, there were snakes on top of him. They were crawling all over him and Harry tried to scream but no sound came out.

He whimpered instead.

“ _The human is awake. We must tell master!”_

The snake spoke and it’s tongue poked his cheek.

A small one came to lay on top of his head. “So warm.”

A shadow came forth, and there were excited exclamations of “Master!”

* * *

Harry was carried out of the bed and led to a bath.

There, Voldemort smirked at him and said, “Do you not like my castle? It is filled with treasures from many ages ago. The rocks from the heavens have been used as foundation for it. Ores, minerals, diamonds. Treasures at every corner…”

“Amazing,” Harry said admiringly as Voldemort began stripping him.

Then the boy reddened, “I could have done that myself.”

“As you are, unable to even move, you will only injure yourself. As you are the first guest in a thousand years, you shall be receiving the best of my hospitality.”

The water around him was warm, and when Voldemort snapped his fingers he disappeared, and in turn, pale bodied females greeted him.

“Ahhhh. No… Help!?!”

Harry felt quite frazzled as the females with forked tongues began cleaning him up. They scrubbed every inch of his body.

After which he felt as if he was the cleanest he’s ever been.

* * *

It did not take long for the poison to wear off, and he was walking around Voldemort’s castle. After spending many nights with him and the rose, he knew that Voldemort wasn’t someone who would hurt him.

At least not in the typical way.

He once asked him, “What do you think of us?”

And he was asked a question, “What do you think of flies?”

And Harry knew that the condescending man was truly a different kind of being and he just happened to look down on them.

There was no book that talked about “Voldemort” anywhere. Perhaps all those that ever tried to write about him died before they could… However, there was one myth, about a man always clothed with red eyes and he was nameless. Just like the boggart that hides under the closet, it was a tale best told in dark rainy nights to scare children from doing something bad.

As he walked around the castle, he came to a garden and the garden had all manner of flowers. The sky was perpetually red, and yet the stars shone through.

The dark clouds were moving fast and making swirls in the sky.

He looked out and in the horizon he saw gates, mountains, dragons and massive humanoid creatures, and floating fish.

He’s seen a lot of magic in the past, but nowhere the magnitude of just looking out in Voldemort’s realm. He wondered to himself if it’s real as he lied down on the red grass.

“Here you are.”

“So… how long am I going to stay kidnapped?”

“You have not been kidnapped.”

“But my parents...”

Harry stood up and dusted off his nice silky black robes that matched Voldemort’s silky green ones.

“You can spend an eternity here and not much time would have passed in your world.”

Harry stared at Voldemort and poked the man with his finger.

“So you mean to say you can keep me here as a prisoner forever and no one would know.”

Voldemort smirked, “Yes, not as a prisoner but as a guest. If you prefer to be inside a cage then I can arrange for that.”

“No,” Harry pursed his lips.

“Once I have ascertained you are well, then you can leave.”

Harry kicked up the grass and sighed, “So, tell me, what does a God do?”

Voldemort smiled, “Many things. I am not one person after all, there are many of us but we are one.”

Harry tried to imagine more than one Voldemort and figured in his head that it was insufferable.

“What does a God do?”

“We exist, and to those that show fealty to us, we give power, and we keep things running. There are many more realms than your mortal world. There is the realm with which the dead go, and there are those… realms where no man can go. The in betweens, of the in betweens.”

Harry tried to wrap his mind around this freely given knowledge.

“Are there others aside from you?”

Voldemort nodded.

“Come, let us dine.”

* * *

Harry found himself floating like a ghost when he willed it. It was much easier to make things possible with fairly little effort in the realm of Voldemort. The ease of which he could do magic was phenomenal, so much so that the man wrapped his arms around him and conjured ropes to prevent him from excitedly moving round and round.

“Why do you keep so much magic to yourself?”

Voldemort sighed, “I do not keep it so selfishly. It is just so. And if I were to bestow the same amount to your world, the world would fall to ruin. I’ve seen it happen. For some time I have been watching and all I know is that too much power corrupts.”

“Then you just admitted you’re evil.”

“Why you brat. I am not evil. I am simply powerful.”

“It’s just not fair. Why can’t you be more honest and simple. I’m a kid, and your words are so complicated sometimes?”

“You ask so many questions.”

“Is it wrong to ask?”

“Yes. For sometimes you might not like the answer.”

“I can take it.”

“I simply do not want to spend more energy in explaining something that seems simple to me to a child like you. In time you will learn the truth.”

Voldemort brushed his hair and hid his grin and gleaming fangs.

And then as he pulled Harry to him, he sat him to his right on a long table that was gleaming black.

There, others were eating. Other women, other men, and other snakes.

There was no order to it, but there was a very homely feel.

“Are you the God of Snakes?”

Harry asked, and Voldemort shook his head. “That would be my forefather.”

And then, he pointed to the far edge, there was a carbon copy of Voldemort with longer hair.

“There’s another you!”

The other Voldemort looked at him and clicked his tongue, preferring to pat down the snakes that were basking on one side of the room while others were busy consuming meal…

The size of the room constantly changed and Harry was suddenly dizzy with the changes. Since it was not constant, his mind was trying to adjust and make sense of what was happening.

“Try not to focus on the others and simply focus on what’s in front of you, Harry. The meal. It will be easier in the long run.”

“This place… doesn’t feel real.” Voldemort frowned and took the boy’s hand.

Some time ago, he heard the very same words.

“Your concept of reality has much to do with what you assume is normal. What you see, what you feel, and what is happening is very real despite it ceasing to exist once you have left this place.”

Harry frowned, “I don’t get it.”

“I did not expect you to. Now eat.”

There was a soup swimming in a rainbow of purple and red with glittering gold.

“What is this abomination?”

“Soup, what else. Eat while it’s hot.”

There was no vapor. There was no indication that it was hot.

“Where’s the spoon?”

“Eat with your magic. Just imagine the soup coming into you. Into your mouth.”

Harry sighed and did so, and without much thought, the droplets of soup began floating into his mouth and he was assaulted by a taste so unworldly but so addicting he was inhaling the soup within the span it took to say his full name.

Harry grinned. “This is so amazing!”

“Magic… is amazing. Your people take it for granted and have not discovered its true prowess.”

To this Harry merely pursed his lips, “water?”

And water appeared beside him.

“Doesn’t this get boring?”

Harry wondered out loud.

“What do you mean, child?”

“To get everything you want in an instant.”

“But that is the essence of power. Why must I toil in the mines for gold that I can conjure? Your kind value it so much that you have created a currency. The same obsession that a dragon once had to collect treasures, you have carried over in exchange for service…”

Harry was perhaps too young to reply to his question.

“Come. Let me see if you are well.”

Voldemort’s red eyes glinted as he looked into Harry’s eyes and Harry felt a twinge as he felt something shift inside his mind.

And when he came to, he was back in the same room he woke with the snakes.

The same dark room with a fireplace.

“Are you not scared of me?”

Harry blinked tiredly at the question.

“Why should I be? You haven’t harmed me… but you might harm my people. I remember now… cause you’re taking away our magic… I… I still don’t like that.”

“Idiot child.”

And Harry gave the man a brilliant smile, "and besides, are we not friends?"

"Friends, you say. Then perhaps we are."

* * *

When Harry woke, he was in bed and there was cake beside him, with a note from his mother to feel better soon.

He was already feeling better so he stood up and set off for the frosted forest and yet when he came there, the forest wasn’t frozen any longer. It was… a normal forest.

With no rose.

Harry blinked.

“Voldemort! I know you’re in here somewhere. Come out… I’m here to water the rose.”

But there was no response, and he returned home dejected after he spent all night trying to look for the special spot but could not find it anymore.

He went back to his family, and asked his mother, “Where did the Forbidden Forest of Frost go?”

“Harry… you silly child, it’s called the Forbidden Forest. Is that what the children are calling it nowadays? It is a bit chillier in the forest since it doesn’t get enough sun.”

Harry frowned and tried to go to their library and searched for passage after passage but could not find it.

“Mother… it’s not here.”

And Harry suddenly found himself crying. “But I’m sure he’s real… Voldemort…”

* * *

Harry went to the wand maker and was gifted his wand, that was brother to none.

He went to Hogwarts dejected that the magic in the place could never compare to what he has seen in Voldemort’s realm. He wondered if there was a way to go there and meet the man.

He was sorted in Slytherin of all houses, and Ron broke his friendship with him. There he wondered if they knew anyone of the name “Voldemort.”

But none of them knew him, and yet every time he spoke it, it seemed others shuddered in fear. They thought he was a little crazy for imagining a friend that did not exist.

He looked at Hedwig, and the white bird tried to console him with a few pecks. He wondered if she remembered him, and remembered the forest but there was no way to converse with his girl.

At times, he thought that maybe he just imagined it... the years he spent caring for the rose, and the red eyed man but it was too real, with his memories too vivid. He ordered a pensieve where he could deposit his memories and yet none would come out. And when he asked for help from the mind healers, they said no such memory existed in his head and that he was lying.

And so he decided to write it down, whatever he knew. He wrote passage after passage.

**Voldemort, a red eyed man**

**A God of Magic that has blessed this land**

**He watches over our kind**

**But with utmost displeasure**

**He speaks to snakes**

**And has other selves**

**He presided over the forbidden forest**

**Which was covered in frost**

**He was once a legend**

**And yet now he is forgotten**

**Together with his Rose**

Harry opened the passage and wrote about how this God of his said, “Magic has not reached its fullest potential.” And that “There is no such thing as evil, only power.”

He then described him as, “A snarky youthful looking man, with high chiselled cheekbones. He eats weird soup. Has Red hellflame eyes and can travel worlds.”

Harry paused and wrote down, “While he is unbelievably snarky, and always displeased. There is a kindness to him that I will sorely miss.”

And then, Harry tried to draw the cloak covered Voldemort. His once friend, and companion of four years long.

* * *

Harry showed his notes to his bookworm friend during their second year who pointed him at obscure tomes.

“There’s no one by that name, but there is one who is called he-who-must-not-be-named. For his name is feared by all and all those that spoke his name received great power and began to grow the mark of a skull and a snake… and then they died.”

Harry read the passage after passage and what he learned of Voldemort there in the past was that he was a tyrannical demon who was worshiped by dark wizards. In their town no such dark wizards existed and if there were any dark wizards, they were merely hiding.

Harry tried to think of Voldemort and knew that Voldemort was not one who would skin one alive, and eat their innards.

He was not one that would break minds and wreak havoc over the realm for displeasure. Or perhaps he was.

“Why are you searching for such a dark entity, Harry? You can get yourself killed.”

Harry tried to smile, and then when he tried to explain it, his voice got caught in his throat, and wondered if the secrecy vow he made long ago still existed.

And he decided that it did not matter, and said, “I once met someone by the name Voldemort… and I don’t think he’s this man at all… I recognize the same mark. I once had it on my right arm. It’s very faint now, but you can see it if you wash magic over it.”

“That’s silly, Harry… that can’t…”

Harry showed her the mark, and Hermione went slack jawed.

“...exist… So all this time when you were disappearing. You met this evil man… you could have gotten hurt, Harry!” Hermione hugged him then and tried to let him confess everything, and every single detail was squeezed out.

Harry was happy that finally someone was there who was going to believe him.

And then, she froze and stared into the distance.

And turned into stone.

On her hand, there was a note, **“I do not share.”**

It burned itself before his eyes and Harry worriedly cried out, "Hermione... someone, help!"

* * *

Harry tried to wrack his mind for what it meant but only got angrier and angrier and did what he could. He went as far as to leave the Hogwarts then and cast a spell that burned the forbidden forest but he was found out and disciplined severely.

Hung from the torture chambers of Hogwarts upside down for three days to repent. The creatures of the forest were kept safe but they wanted reparation that the Potter family had to pay for.

He was just crying.

When Hermione woke up, she could not recall anything and every time he mentioned Voldemort to her, she would close off as if not hearing it.

There was something wrong.

* * *

Alone he would ask out loud, “Why do you have to do this, you bastard. I know you’re out there. I know you exist. I know you’re messing with me… Why can’t we just go back to being friends?”

But there was no forthcoming answer and Harry tried to forget him but he could not.

So he started caring for roses along with Neville. He started giving them names, something a red eyed man would have never done.

* * *

The years passed. On Harry’s seventeenth birthday, he was given a rose.

And a message.

_You have not forgotten me._

_If you truly believe in me,_

_then you will swallow the rose’s thorns._

_You will die._

_Then your people will have their magic,_

_and you will become my companion._

Harry knew gods could be unbearably unkind.

“Why do I have to die? Don’t you know that’s painful you bastard? Don’t you know how long I’ve had to wait?”

And there was a voice in his head that said, _but you made him wait longer, you pitiful rose._

At this Harry stilled.

So he swallowed the thorns and died.

* * *

And he woke up as a child in Voldemort’s bed, staring up at red eyes. With an eleven year old body, and an eleven year old mind.

“Are you real?... Is this real?”

He clambered out of the bed and Voldemort smiled, darkly.

“I am. You’ve slept for quite awhile, Harry. You haven't fully recovered from your fever."

"My fever?"

"You had a fever yesterday. I brought you here, and let you sleep once you've had something to eat. Do you not remember?"

Harry laughed nervously and wondered out loud, "So I had a dream of going to Hogwarts and all of this being a lie?"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes and leaned down on him, "Yes, and no. It does not matter now that you're awake. Why don’t you join me in the gardens. The rose needs tending.”

Harry looked at Voldemort… whose smile was creeping farther than smiles could creep.

And felt fear.

There was something amiss but he could not remember what it was.

It was a whisper but Harry did not hear it, only felt a growing weariness.

"I want to go home," said Harry. And his hands were clammy, nervous at what his _friend_ would say to him.

“Tomorrow, I promise, you can leave and visit your family,” Voldemort began to comb his hair with his hands, glinting against the fireplace.

“Visit, why just visit?” Harry's voice got smaller.

And Voldemort gave him a secretive smile, drumming his fingers on the boy's cheek and then his lips. “What have I told you about asking too many questions?”

Harry tried to recall what it was that seemed like a lifetime ago, when… back before going back.

"Tell me..."

"You don't live there anymore... Have you not agreed to stay with me?"

And he collapsed in trying to remember. “I… when you stopped showing yourself to me.”

“I never did. I was beside you all the time… You dreamed an eternity without me, that was all there was to it. A long dream.”

Harry blinked and reconsidered this, as the room shifted into darkness, and into one of light. The colors muted. As if everything was alive and not. His vision was waning.

**_Life is but a dream._ **

Harry pushed away the man and grabbed at his head.

“Harry, my precious rose, don’t worry yourself over small details.”

And instantly, he was back at the spinning room, with the massive bed by the fireplace looking up at the red sky filled with dark clouds and the handsome man leaning over him with hunger.

“Your rose? I’m your rose?” Harry asked in confusion.

“That is what you are. You have watered yourself so that you can awaken. All that time, dutifully watering yourself… and giving your magic to me. So we can be together...”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your soul belongs to me now. In time you will understand. Do you need to rest some more?”

Harry looked at the gleaming red eyes and whimpered, “Will I dream of not seeing you again?”

“What kind of dream do you wish to experience, my dearest? Tell me, and I will make it happen,” The God said to the mortal who does not have the same concept of time.

Harry whimpered, “M-my family…”

“But they’re dead, Harry. I ate them.”

Harry froze when Voldemort gave him a kiss on the forehead. He could only hear the frantic thud of his heart, and the sudden ringing in his ears.

“You?...”

“A god can hunger at times. You have done the same. The soup… Their essence. You thought it was delicious, Harry. What do you think a God eats if a God must eat at all?”

Harry pushed himself away and started running, but the floor became mud and he was sinking.

He could not breathe.

* * *

And when he came to, he was waking up once more, on the same bed, with red eyes staring back at him.

“Voldemort…”

“I am… what you believe I am Harry. Am I the monster in your dream or am I your precious friend?”

Harry tried to recall Voldemort who taught him how to water the rose. The rose that was him. And he imagined himself unable to move, asleep in the form of the rose.

And Voldemort smiled at him, teeth gleaming, opening wide.

“Please…”

“Please what, Harry?”

“Stop this.”

And he was crying. “It’s not funny.”

And they were sitting on the table, and there was again the soup. And the water, and a Voldemort that was looking at him with hunger and fondness…

And he was still crying.

“My parents… my friends? Are they still alive?”

* * *

Voldemort laughed and kissed him, his eleven year old self, taking a bite of his tongue, piercing it with his fangs.

And pushing him down on the table.

And all of a sudden, petals were raining down from the ceiling.

“They could be… if you behave.”

Harry twitched underneath as he watched his hands grow flowers.

His mouth was forcibly opened and water and soup sloshed down his insides.

“What does it feel like to become a God?”

* * *

Harry curled up in the same bed looking despondently at the spikes of thorns that adorned the walls, trying to will them away, repeatedly, until they disappeared...

He kept trying to get used to the same room, to the same fire place. He kept imagining that where he was was real. That the walls were solid. That the fireplace was warm. He was going insane.

And outside there were all manner of creatures, dead and coming back to life. An endless cycle.

“It takes time for all this to settle down. It's best to keep you in the dark... This time, you have accepted my companionship. Do not fall to pieces, Harry.”

Voldemort kissed the top of his forehead and kept him closer.

“I still don’t understand,” came Harry's lost voice.

“You don’t have to… We have an eternity, Harry. I have waited for so long for you to wake. The worlds are vast, and you are but a fledgling. Reality would collapse if you cannot hold it in your mind… I tried to stay away in your dreams and to deposit you back to that fetid world that you call home, and yet you poured out your soul calling back to me. Is this not what you wanted?”

Harry pursed his lips and turned around.

Voldemort was still cold, but for some reason, it smelled like home…

That all throughout his life he could smell the same scent of… the rose. Of the cold. Of the winter frost.

* * *

“What kind of God are you?”

“There is no word for it. I just am. But… the closest would be… chaos?”

Harry pursed his lips. Magic’s source.

“And I am?”

“Death.”

“Do you know how long it took to nurture you back into existence after you have decided to become a flower?”

"I don't know..."

"To lose your voice. Your touch... I cared for you and now you must do the same for me."

“And that what we have is a lie, and my life was a lie...”

“But it is what you consider as real, that is what matters."

"I don't know what is real and what is not."

"What you feel now, is what matters."

"I feel safe... and yet so afraid. That I'll wake up and all this is a dream."

"Oh Harry, be thankful it's not a nightmare.”


End file.
